


in the woods they found my bones

by thisbluespirit



Category: Doctor Who (1963), Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: 1970s, 500 prompts, Archaeology, Episode: s10e01 The Pilot, Gen, Minor Character(s), Serial: s100 The Stones of Blood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-07
Updated: 2018-09-07
Packaged: 2019-07-08 06:17:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15924599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisbluespirit/pseuds/thisbluespirit
Summary: The Doctor is hunting something nasty in the woods – but so is someone else, someone he’s met once before…





	in the woods they found my bones

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Liadt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Liadt/gifts).



> For Liadtbunny & sevanatwonights in the [500 Prompts Meme](http://lost-spook.dreamwidth.org/291842.html): 495 – In the woods they found my bones – Twelve & Amelia Rumford.

“I knew Idwal Morgan was a scoundrel, but I didn’t think he’d stoop this low. How much did he pay you to steal that?” 

The Doctor, caught red-handed in the light of the newcomer’s torch, looked down at the object in surprise. He’d only picked it up to double check it wasn’t alien before he got on with his uninspiring digging around in the dirt. What’s more, the annoyed voice addressing him sounded distinctly familiar. He frowned, trying to place it, but that was the problem with a long life: there were a lot of options to choose from.

“No, no. I’m not stealing anything,” he said, while his brain continued trying to work it out. “I’m an archaeologist. Look, I’ve got a trowel.” He held up the implement in question in his other hand, and they both stared at it. “Well, all right, so it’s not a trowel, it’s actually a spoon, but it’s delicate work, so I thought it’d do.”

“Well, never mind the cutlery, put that artefact back where you found it,” she said, lowering the torch, revealing herself; her face illuminated in shadows, as she stepped forwards towards him through the woods, but definitely familiar. Unforgettable, even. The Doctor smiled. Professor Amelia Rumford. 

“And being an archaeologist isn’t an excuse for sneaking into somebody else’s dig in the middle of the night and swiping their best find. In fact, if I flatter myself, that might be the decade’s best find, at least in this field.”

The Doctor leant forward and gave her the stone. “Oh, you can have this. It isn’t what I’m looking for. I’m going to have to dig deeper, I suppose. Have you got a spade? Or some nitro 9, I seem to remember that working before. Or, no, not for this – that would be inappropriate.”

“It’s not good enough,” Amelia said. “There is such a thing as professional etiquette, you know. Even a man should be able to comprehend that. But I suppose you’re not Idwal Morgan, so that’s something.” She glared at him. “Wait. You’re not one of his associates, are you?”

The Doctor put up his hands. “No! And I wouldn’t dream of being called Idwal Morgan, anyway. I usually stick to John Smith. Less showy.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, man,” she said, waving her torch until he dropped his arms. “This is the West Country, not the wild west. I haven’t got a gun. Now, what is it you’re looking for?”

The Doctor gave a smile. “Thank you, Amelia.”

“I don’t remember telling you my name.”

“You didn’t have to. It was in the documentation – and you have got a reputation. I’m from St Luke’s, by the way.”

She shook his hand. “Ah, yes. A friend of Kenneth Mackey’s, are you?”

“Not, er, a friend, no,” said the Doctor. “But we’ve met. He tried to hit me in a seminar room, so I expect he’d remember if you asked him, although on the other hand I’m not a hundred per cent sure he wasn’t drunk at the time, so he might not.”

“Sounds like him. Always was hot-tempered and over keen on the whisky. Bull at a gate, and all that. Sound on the Neolithic, though. Well, if you don’t count his tendency to assume everything’s ritualistic. Some things are about practicalities in any era, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Yes, probably, but you should ask me again what it is I’m looking for.” The Doctor shone his torch around the clearing again. “I suspect you need to know. After all, another good question is: what are _you_ doing wandering about these woods in the middle of the night, Professor?”

Amelia nodded. “Ah. You haven’t seen anyone else out here, have you? Is that it? Because I noticed Jacob didn’t come back with the others – one of my students, you know. Not the most promising of the set, but that’s no cause not to look when you realise he’s been missing all evening, is it?”

“No. I saw something making its way into the woods,” said the Doctor. “And there was a boy. Just a boy. Sometimes the universe isn’t very fair. I had to come and find out what had become of him and if it was too late. And when I saw that it was – then I realised it couldn’t be the first time it happened. That’s why I’m digging. I think there should be some more bones around here somewhere.”

“Oh,” said Amelia. “ _Oh._ you don’t mean Jacob – oh dear. You _do_. He’s dead? Oh, surely not!”

The Doctor shone his torch over to the left. “That way.”

“Oh, dear,” said Amelia again, drawing in her breath as she reached the spot. She turned around and watched the Doctor. She didn’t comment on her student’s death further, not yet. “I don’t think that spoon is the proper tool for the job. Would you like a trowel – and a hand?”

The Doctor smiled. “I don’t suppose you’d take no for an answer, would you?”

 

Amelia lit a couple of kerosene lamps and placed them beside the dig. “Who – or what – did that to Jacob?”

“It doesn’t matter any more. It’s gone. Dead. An animal, if you like. The beast of Bodmin.”

“This is Somerset, not Cornwall.”

“That kind of thing,” said the Doctor, with a wave of his hand. “It had to kill once every thirty to forty years, and I’d estimate it was hiding around here for about one hundred and twenty years.”

“Three or four bodies, then,” said Amelia. “I wonder. Try over there, Dr Smith. Tessa found a collection of coins. Too modern for us, but, out here in the woods, it might indicate unusual activity –”

“Yes.”

“Of course, if it’s dead, and poor Jacob is dead, and anyone else here has been waiting thirty or forty years at the least, we could come back and do this in daylight. I expect I ought to telephone the police first anyway even if they are bound to trample all over the place and ruin things.”

“Well, there’s the matter of making sure it doesn’t come back.”

“Eh? You’re not making sense, man.”

“I am,” said the Doctor. “Just not in the way you’re used to. Listen, let’s say that this was ritualistic, although it was also practical in its own way. I prevented it carrying out its purpose with Jacob, even if I was too late to save him, but these other remains have to be made safe, if I can find them. And the authorities tend to frown on meddling with crime scenes, even historical ones.”

“So do archaeologists. At least this spot isn’t in the middle of the main dig.” Amelia drew herself up, thinking it over for a moment, and then nodded. “All right. Whatever needs to be done. And you won’t have to do – well, to do anything to Jacob?”

He shook his head. “Promise. And we’ll burn these. It’ll be like a pyre from ancient times. One thing, though, Professor.”

“What?”

“Don’t touch any bones, or you might regret it.”

She lifted her head. “Don’t worry, Smith. I’ve got gloves.”

 

“Tea?” said Amelia, passing him a flask, as they stood in a small clearing and watched the small, macabre bonfire burning in front of them. 

The Doctor took the plastic top that doubled as a cup and let her pour him some. “I’m sorry about Jacob.”

“So am I.” She sighed. “Poor boy.” Then she squinted at him in the firelight. “Exactly who are you anyway?”

“An old friend you haven’t met yet,” he said. “Also a physics lecturer.”

“I didn’t think you could be an archaeologist.”

“No,” said the Doctor. “I never did have the patience for it. But I have robbed several ancient burial sites on multiple worlds and I once had a very interesting experience in a Cornish fogou.”

Amelia nodded. “Well, tell me about it while we walk back to the pub.”

And the Doctor, because for this millennia he actually had time for these things, nodded in return, and followed her to the Three Crowns, relating a significantly abridged tale of what had once happened to him and another history professor in a Cornish fogou a couple of decades later in the century and a few lifetimes ago. “Giving any lectures any time soon?” he asked. He wouldn’t mind hearing her talk. Might be nice for a change. “Although I have to warn you, I usually laugh at archaeologists.”

“Oh, do you?”

“It’s a physicist-archaeologist thing.” A time machine made the study of ancient history look even more like a game of pin the tail on the donkey than the reveal of a particularly rich site, or new methods of dating. “Sort of. Something like that.”

“Well, if that’s the way you behave, you ought to go and listen to Idwal Morgan next time he’s in your area. That ought to give you a few chuckles.”

“I might do that, Amelia. I might do that.”


End file.
